


His Glitchy Daughter

by NonstopCreatorOfNonsense



Series: Mal's Chaotic Life [10]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Children, Alternate Universe - Parents, Alternate Universe - Undertale Multiverse | UTMV (Undertale), Angst with a Happy Ending, Apologies, Assumptions, Children of Characters, Comfort, Confusion, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Angst, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Issues, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Insecurity, Light Angst, Mal - Freeform, Misunderstandings, Monsters, Necro Sans - Freeform, Necrotale Sans, Original Character(s), Originally Posted on Tumblr, Parent Sans (Undertale), Realization, Teen Angst, Zerif - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-27 02:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30115575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NonstopCreatorOfNonsense/pseuds/NonstopCreatorOfNonsense
Summary: Mal’s convinced that her dad, Necro, doesn’t care about her. Zerif proves to her that she’s wrong, and she reacts in a way that he wasn’t at all expecting
Relationships: Necro Sans & Mal, Necro Sans/Zerif, Necrotale Sans & Mal, Necrotale Sans/Zerif, Original Character & Original Character, Zerif & Mal
Series: Mal's Chaotic Life [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2202798





	His Glitchy Daughter

Pausing just outside the teen’s door, the undertaker paused. He shouldn’t be awkward about this, but here he was. Awkward.

_Awkward and uncertain._

Zerif took a deep breath, raising a hand to gently rap his knuckles against the closed door before softly calling out to her, “Mal?… Are you ok in there?” The soft sound of sniffling could be heard from behind the door and the teen snapped back at him, “Yeah I’m _fine_ , just go away. I don’t wanna talk to anyone right now.” The undertaker hesitated, unsure how to proceed. On one hand, he didn’t want to intrude and make her uncomfortable, but on the other hand, he didn’t want her to be alone if she needed or wanted someone there with her. She wasn’t always straightforward with her wants and needs and she _did_ struggle to acknowledge the way certain things made her feel sometimes, so for all he knew, maybe she _really did_ want to talk. He had no idea what to do, fidgeting anxiously and he went over the options in his head. A moment of silence passed before he furrowed his brow bones, lowering his hand to grasp the doorknob. Something told him that he needed to see her, and he wasn’t going to ignore it. Not again.

As he twisted the doorknob and lightly pushed open the door, the teen bolted upward from her position, curled into a ball on her side in bed, to sitting upright, very visibly tense as she scowled, “What the _hell_ is _your problem_ , Zerif? I already said I don’t wanna talk, so just _piss off_ , will ya.” Zerif stepped into the room, setting the plate of cookies he’d brought with him on her desk. Blatantly ignoring her words, he approached her, a determined expression on his face. Seeing his expression, the teen growled softly and began to scoot back away from him as he drew nearer. She had no idea what he planned to do, and that was beginning to freak her out. Sitting on the edge of her bed, Zerif reached out, his grip gentle yet firm as he grasped one of her arms and tugged her closer to himself, ignoring the way she squirmed and tried to break away from him as her body began to glitch heavily. Angling himself to face her, he pulled her closer and wrapped both arms around her, his grip still firm as she nearly shrieked, “ _What the hell_ do you _think_ you’re _doing_? Let me go, idiot!” Staying as relaxed as he could, his voice was soft as he responded, “No. I don’t think I will.”

Her struggling slowly began to lessen although she continued to glitch, her voice much weaker than before, “Why not?… Why are you even _here_ right now? Don’t you have a job to do or something?…” Zerif sighed softly, both arms still gently looped around her, “I’m here because I want to be. My job can wait… If I have to work overtime, so be it. I care about you more than I care about my job, or anything else for that matter right now.” The teen’s voice was reduced to a shaky mumble as she wrapped her arms around him, clutching the fabric of his shirt tightly, “No you _don’t_ … _Why would you say something like that?_ You… You _couldn’t possibly…_ ” Zerif very gently placed a hand on the back of her skull and began to softly stroke her head, “I do, though. Mal, just because you’re not my child _biologically_ , that _doesn’t_ mean anything.” Mal tightened her grip on his shirt further, beginning to tremble in his arms. In an unfamiliar yet strangely instinctive manner, Zerif continued gently caressing her head as he began to rock back and forth the smallest bit.

The teen sniffled, letting out a soft whimper as she buried her face in his shoulder. The undertaker hummed lowly, his voice a mumble, “There ya go, kid… It’s alright. ’M not gonna go anywhere, I promise.” The younger of the two whimpered again, still clinging to him, “I-It _hurts_ , Zerif. Make it stop, please. _Please_ , make it stop hurting.” Frowning, Zerif tilted his head, his brow bones knit in a mix of confusion and concern, “What hurts, Mal?… Did you get hurt earlier during your sparring practice?” Mal shook her head, pulling back away from him just enough to rub her eyes with the back of her hand, “No, it’s not that kinda pain, it’s different…” The undertaker loosened his grip on her, giving her the option to pull back away from him completely if she wanted, “What do you mean?… I’m sorry, I’m not quite following what you’re saying.” Slipping out of his arms, the shorter skeleton sat down and scooted backward until she was leaning against the wall. He took notice of how she was avoiding eye contact, his frown deepening, “Mal, _please_ , you’re starting to worry me… Whatever happened, I won’t be upset with you, I _swear_. I just need to know what’s going on so I can figure out how to help you.” She reluctantly met his gaze, holding it for a brief moment before looking away again and raising a hand to her chest, her palm facing upward.

Right before his eyes, she materialized her own soul, the softly glowing culmination of her _entire being_ floating just above her hand. It was heart shaped and solid white, as a standard monster soul should be, but the detail that caused Zerif’s sockets to widen was the amount of cracks and damage it had sustained over time. Zerif leaned closer to get a better look at it, a wave of sadness washing over him as his eye lights flickered back to her face, finding her watching him intently. She was the one to break the silence, her voice nearly a whisper, “It… My soul. _My soul hurts_ … I just want it to _stop_ , Zerif…” The undertaker nodded, making a soft sound of understanding, his gaze softening as he murmured back, “I know, Mal… I can’t promise to fix it _immediately_ , but if you’d let me, I can try to help your soul heal. It’ll take some time, but it’ll be _well_ worth it. I can even talk to your dad and see if there’s anything he can do too, if you want. Whatever you wanna do, I’m here for you, ok?” The teen nodded slowly back, delicately pushing her soul back into her body through her chest. Pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them close, she mumbled, avoiding Zerif’s gaze, “Necro, you mean. Why don’t you just call him that? S'not like he’s _really_ my dad or anything.” Zerif glanced over the other skeleton, his eye lights attempting to read her to the best of his ability. Arching a single brow bone, he couldn’t help but ask, “What are you talking about?… _Of course_ he’s your dad.”

Mal curled both of her hands into fists, suddenly tensing up and scowling, “ _Like hell he is! If he really was my dad, then wouldn’t he make an effort to act like he cares?_ ” The undertaker sighed, tilting his head as he watched her, “He _does_ care, I promise. I’m not just bs'ing you, either. I mean it.” Redirecting her sharpened gaze to Zerif, she scoffed, “How do you know? No _offense_ or anything, but you’re _not_ him, you _don’t know_ what he feels or what goes on in his head.” Zerif nodded in agreement, “That’s true. I’m not him, so I don’t know what he feels a lot of the time. I _definitely_ don’t know what he’s thinking, either. I _know_ he cares though, really. I’ve been living with him a long time now, and I’ve gotten to see who he really is, behind that blank face he wears.” Mal hissed softly in irritation, “Tell me how you _know_ he cares then! I’m _dying to know_.” The undertaker hummed softly, “Well… He’s the type to watch and observe, noticing all the little things. He’s the one who makes sure you never run out of stuff for your knitting and crocheting, he’s the one that patches up all the rips and tears in your clothes. He gave you that new scarf when he saw how your old one always made you look so sad. He’s the one who always leaves a muffin or a cookie or whatever on your bedside table every morning, for when you wake up. Banana nut muffins and gingersnaps to be exact, since he knows those are your favorites.”

Sockets widening as she watched Zerif, Mal’s expression began to soften and she remained silent, absentmindedly touching the black and white striped scarf that was loosely looped around her neck vertebrae. Zerif took this as permission to continue, “Your dad’s a busy guy. He has to help look after the multiverse and maintain the balance, but no matter how _tired_ he is, he makes sure to spend time with you, whether it’s your sparring practice, goofing off in the kitchen and baking stuff, or letting you pick what you wanna watch on tv. And he worries about you _more than you know_. The first time you snapped at him, he was _so_ distraught over it. I watched him for a while, and he couldn’t even do any baking because he kept messing up the ingredients. He’s normally so good at baking that he could do it _in his sleep_.” A single tear ran down Mal’s cheekbone as she stared at the undertaker in disbelief, and he leaned a bit closer to her, gently brushing it away with his thumb before whispering, “And whenever he gets home from work, one of the _first_ things he asks about is how you’re doing. He loves you… He just has a harder time expressing it than we do.”

Before Zerif could process what Mal was up to, her body glitched and she slid off of her bed, immediately racing toward the still open door. The undertaker was quick to follow her, running after her into the hall. She took a sharp turn around the corner, throwing open the door that led to the necromancer’s personal study. Seated behind his desk and hunched over a file and it’s numerous documents, Necro jolted in surprise at Mal’s sudden appearance. Before he could ask what was going on, both of her hands were balled into fists down by her sides and she let out a broken sob, “I’m sorry, dad. I’m _so sorry_ I acted the way I did, and I’m _sorry_ that I got out of line and assumed I knew how you felt.” The necromancer inaudibly sighed, standing up and making his way around the desk. Her sockets were wide and held what he clearly understood as sorrow and remorse, and he also noted the fear that flickered in them as she took a step back away from him, as though she was afraid that he was planning to hurt her.

Her body glitched heavier than he’d seen in quite a while and she sobbed, “I’m _really sorry_ … I promise I won’t act that way or assume anything about you _ever_ again.” Necro wordlessly stepped closer and pulled her into a hug, holding her close. Almost immediately returning the hug and clinging to him, Mal pressed as close to him as she could, and he gently rubbed her back, his voice soft as he lightly rested his head atop hers, “It’s ok, Mal... You’re my daughter, and I’ll always forgive you.” The teen sniffled, burying her face in his sweater and attempting to muffle the sound of her voice as she continued to sob. Necro pulled back briefly to delicately press his teeth to the top of her skull, his own voice nearly inaudible against the sound of hers, “I know I don’t show it as much as I should, but I _do_ love you, ok?… Even if you irritate or hurt me sometimes, that doesn’t change anything.” Though she seemed to hesitate, Mal took a shaky breath, whispering in response, _“…I love you too, dad.”_

Standing in the hallway, Zerif peeked into his partner’s office. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see, but it definitely wasn’t Mal in Necro’s arms while she cried, clinging to him. He wanted to be concerned for her, but then he noticed the soft smile that his other half was wearing, and he knew instantly that everything would be alright.


End file.
